


Lachlan Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

by Hartwin_Casualty (Cody_Thomas), ReePer



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: And Then Some, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Coersion, Crossdressing, Entrapment, Gore, Incestuous relationships, M/M, Mental Abuse, Other, Period-Typical Homophobia, Song Lyrics, Suicide Attempt, Sweeney Todd AU, Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment, anything warned for in the original movie is warned for here, bc we need to warn you about that?, charlie hesketh is dead, cross-dressing, dubious uses for blood, fetishes used as weapons, harry gets hurt A LOT, no seriously have you seen the movie?, ok then, omg lyrics are hard, sissyfying, waste not want not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cody_Thomas/pseuds/Hartwin_Casualty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReePer/pseuds/ReePer
Summary: A twisty Sweeney Todd AU inspired by that Mark Strong shaving video





	Lachlan Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

**Author's Note:**

> For efficiency sake of our readers, Merlin will be referring to Harry as Fife several times as a pet nickname. This is in reference to many things, a Fife is a rather high pitched whistle, (three guesses why he thought it was appropriate for Harry) it is a county in Scotland, Merlin's birthplace, and it can also be a combination of the words Fide (trust) and Wife, since they can't marry legally. So Harry will often be called Merlin's Fife, this is not a typo.

**_There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit_ **  
**_And the vermin of the world inhabit it_ **  
**_And it’s morals aren’t worth what a pig could spit_ **  
**_And it goes by the name of London_ **  
**_At the top of the holes are the privileged few_ **  
**_Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo_ **  
**_Turning beauty into filth and greed_ **

 

  
Of course it was bloody foggy. London was always surrounding itself with the ominous demon mist, like it was trying to shroud its true nature from the world with mystery; in order to lure in its endless prey of weary travelers. Once you’d stepped onto the port, you belonged to the dark underbelly of the British Isles, and London would devour you whole. Merlin had always hated London.  He’d only ever agreed to come to London for Harry’s sake that one time. It was only supposed to be one spring and summer on Fleet Street, so that Harry could learn the tools of the trade from the Kingsman Tailors on Savile Row to take home to their home outside Braemore, where he hoped to open his own shop.  Harry had wanted so badly to return to his hometown and work under the gentleman tailors that had given him a love of fashion and textiles in the first place.

  
He swung his gaze away from the lamp lit pylons to survey the rest of the ship.  Officer Unwin, the young man who had appointed himself Merlin’s entertainment and daily companion for the majority of the 3-week journey from Australia, was leaning over the bow, staring off into the murky distance as if thinking of the lover he’d be returning to, if he had one.  Merlin had asked about it early on in their interactions, only to be laughed down with a, “Nah, mate, I’ve been too busy working on seeing the world to tie myself down to anyone, but if you’re offering….” And a cheeky wink.  Merlin had huffed it off at the time, but it was curious to see the lad so … enchanted with the sights of the grimy and sooty city, the reeking stench of the Thames wafting up as if to strangle them where they stood. He made his way to the rail next to the boy, not ready to offer a greeting, but still seeking what little bit of comfort the boy seemed to afford the shell of him these past days.

  
“Oh, Mr. Todd, I have sailed the world, and beheld its wonders, but there is no place like London!” Eggsy breathed, eyes bright despite the fetid air surrounding them.  He seemed eager as a puppy to return to his hometown, Cockney slipping into his syllables.

  
“No, there is no place like London.” Merlin bit out, scowling ahead.

  
“Mr. Todd?” Eggsy asked, concern eking out the previous excitement.

  
“You are young, and life has been kind to you.  You will learn.” Merlin turned to walk to the bow, keeping his gait steady as the ship was slipped into its moorings.  He’d had to wait years in order to get this far, he’d keep his patience a few more minutes while he waited for the ship to dock.  He could feel the boy watching the back of his neck as they disembarked, Merlin himself empty-handed, as he’d not been able (or inclined) to gather any sort of possessions in his haste to get himself out of the hell he’d finally escaped from.  Everything he needed awaited him in London, save for a travelling suit that he had acquired during his brief stay in Canberra.  A gentleman (or a man posing as one, for what was gentle about Lachlan Todd?) had to look the part, and while it was by no means within the same league as his previous life’s tailored perfections courtesy of his Harry, it was at least better than the disgusting clothing his captors had left him in in their bunker.  Burning those in effigy had been wholly satisfying, beyond the decontamination of his body.

  
“Is everything alright, Mr. Todd?” Eggsy asked him.  He could feel the boy’s eyebrow lifting in concern, trying to keep an eye out for an acquaintance, but Merlin was not here to make friends.  No, certainly not.  He could not afford, however, to reveal himself after finally setting his feet back on British soil (or stone, rather), so he feigned fatigue in his voice when he responded.

  
“I beg your indulgence, Eggsy.  My mind is far from easy.  In these once familiar streets, I feel….shadows, everywhere.”

  
“Shadows?”

  
“Ghosts.”

  
The boy radiated confusion, and somehow Merlin found himself continuing (he’d found himself doing that often during the journey, talking to the boy for hours on end about many things, and looking for the boy to talk to him, as well.  At first it was simply a way to pass the time, but it had quickly grown to something he’d looked forward to over the several weeks they were carried across the Atlantic).

  
“There was a barber and his love,” Merlin turned toward an alley between nearby warehouse buildings, as if he could still see the scenes from years prior despite the dark night, “and they were beautiful.  A foolish barber and his _Fife_ , each other’s reason and their life, and it was beautiful, and they were virtuous, and they were deceived.  A lecherous uncle had seen the _Fife_ was beautiful; an awful terror of a Judge, whom they had trusted far too much. He coaxed them within range, but when they’d seen his game, no more chance for an escape. This Judge had many, many friends, one guess how all this ends. The constable was ordered in, he was a witness to their sins. He took the barber from his place, the Judge had naught but to save face, and his _Fife_ would fall, so soft, so young, so scared, and so beautiful...”

  
Here he stopped, drawing his lips between his teeth to bite down on them, lest his voice crack under the weight of the memories of the day Harry had been stolen from him.

  
“And the barber’s lover?” Eggsy asked carefully, “Did they succumb?”

  
“Oh it was many years ago, I doubt if anyone would know.”  He took a moment to steady his voice before speaking again. “I’d like to thank you, Officer Unwin; If you hadn’t spotted me, I’d be lost on the ocean we sailed.”

  
“It’s Eggsy, sir, please, indulge me.  Will I see you again?” the boy asked him, adjusting his rucksack as he waited.

  
“You might find me, if you like. Around Fleet Street I’d wager.”

  
And as he looked in the direction of Fleet Street, Merlin’s feet began carrying him toward the terrifyingly familiar alleys that would lead him towards whatever might be left of his home, leaving the boy behind.  He didn’t hear the boy’s valediction called out to his retreating figure, nor did he notice the filth scurrying out of range as he stalked away, hunched in upon himself as his mind tortured him with the memories of that final morning that he and Harry had together.  

___________

Harry had woken him by quivering with his excitement next to him in the bed. It was tantamount to having a overgrown puppy, really.

  
“Harry.” He’d chided, they had RULES about mornings and what constituted as acceptable hours to be awake during them. Harry’s idea of mornings had always been far far earlier than Merlin (and most humans, for that matter) was ever comfortable with. Merlin insisted that the sun had to be up and out of one’s direct eyesight before getting up comfortably could happen. Harry tended to wake up two to three hours before dawn to sketch, of all things, whereas Merlin could only be pried awake by either the promise of food, or Harry, preferably both.

  
“Merlin, I am so sorry, I just can’t wait, and you did promise to take me to the market today.  I was very good, you said so yourself.” Harry’s smirk was evident in his voice, Merlin hadn’t even had to open his eyes.  He rolled over to crack an eye at the window, which was only just beginning to pull in the sun’s first blushes. At least an hour before sunrise, then.  Gods, Harry was lucky he was so pretty.

  
“Aye, but waking me before even the sun has decided to pull its arse from its blankets is not the work of a very good girl, now is it, _cailίn άlainn_?”

“But Merlin,” and here he couldn’t help the smirk of his mouth at the pout he knew must be on Harry’s beautiful face, “You promised me!  And besides, I didn’t touch you to wake you, you just woke on your own, your body was ready, you lazy arse.  I did behave.  But now that you’re awake and so obviously grumpy, maybe I should cheer you up?”

  
And Merlin had given himself over to the ministrations of Harry’s dexterous hands and shameless mouth for almost an hour that morning, before they’d finally dragged themselves out of bed and made their way out into the warm morning to stroll to the market in Piccadilly Square.  He’d promised Harry that they could look for new fabrics to experiment with, including a new project Harry had wanted to try, making a dress of his own.  He hadn’t had many chances to spoil Harry here in London, as Harry was kept so very busy under the tutelage of the tailors.  This shopping excursion was bound to afford him a chance to make Harry smile.

  
They had only been in the market for an hour before Lachlan had found himself and Harry both toting large baskets and satchels filled with bolts of fabrics, darker ones for suits for the both of them, lighter ones for summer wear, and a pale green onee peeking out from below for Harry to make his very first dress, with some stiff white satin and some cotton to fashion into a petticoat. Harry was wholly unaware of the spool of matching green silk ribbon Merlin had purchased and smuggled to the very bottom for his love to find later on as a gift. Harry adored ribbon.

  
Harry had been flushed in barely concealed excitement despite his cool morning walking suit, and Merlin couldn’t help but follow his enthusiastic lover’s antics with a smile as he flitted from stall to stall, trying to take in all the activity while they were still in the city. They so rarely stayed away from their cottage for such a length of time, and Harry was sure to be filing all he took in as inspiration for when they returned home.

  
They had been talking about working their way over to a café for a light breakfast when Lachlan was struck from behind, and crumpled to the ground.  The last thing he heard had been Harry’s shouts as he was grabbed and pulled away, their baskets spilling out onto the cobbled street, the spool of ribbon unrolling right under Harry’s feet, stepping on it in his haste to try and reach him…  
_____________

Now, though, Merlin felt his footsteps pick up in pace, as his body strode along similar alleyways through the dark.  His heels beat out a menacing rhythm, too quick and sharp for a gentleman.  Lachlan Todd, however, wasn’t concerned, as no one who could refute his position as a gentleman would be out this time of night, anyway.  There were only dockworkers, drunks, opium addicts, gamblers, prostitutes, and their respective clientele.  None of these people would bother him.

  
He had precious little money left, so hailing a carriage was out of the question.  As such, he found the sky lightening by the time he made his way around the final corner to his former home.

  
The lights in the apartment above (HIS apartment) were out, and whatever the moths had left of the curtains drawn, but it looked uninhabited.  Below, the shop front was still intact, although it was now touting itself as “Mrs. Hesketh’s Meat Pies,” according to the falling sign.  Merlin let himself into the unlocked entrance to the shop, setting a half-broken chime to clang softly as he did so.  Behind the counter, a young woman looked up from where she stood frowning down at a lump of dough before her, as if its very presence was an affront to her.

  
The frown stayed for a moment, then she pasted a smile on, and bustled out from behind the counter, “A customer!”

**Author's Note:**

> THIS is the Mark Strong shaving video that you can thank for this story existing.  
> https://vimeo.com/74223339  
> And here is the link to this portion of the movie's soundtrack, for our fellow music geeks :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xrt7-Xu2Fk


End file.
